Ice Queen
by izzysfanfiction
Summary: Jeanine Matthews. The sole representative of Erudite, and the most intelligent according to the Erudite intelligence quota administered to all adults. An accomplished woman, despite her many faults. She's climbed the social ladder, summiting at her current position. Impressive, of course. She's garnered much respect and reverence. The question is, however, where did she begin?
1. Introduction

Humble beginnings.

A term often used by a portion of those who have reached the top of the social ladder, or at least, have come close.

Personally, I find such a thing to be rather ridiculous. Someone of a lower class background and someone of a higher class background should be treated no differently, especially when it comes to measurement of accomplishment.

Though, perhaps I say this out of bias. I simply cannot stand to hear someone being praised for how far they've come from the lower class when I, a woman with an upper class background, have worked just as hard if not harder.

I digress.

Ramblings aside, I wouldn't say that I have humble beginnings. I do, however, find myself now almost incomparable to the child I was.

Everyone wonders if someone who has monumentally messed up like myself had some sob story for a childhood. I really did not. My mistakes came out of stupid decisions and lapses in judgment, not because my father left or anything of the sort.

I suppose, however, that my beginnings are that of interest to anyone who finds my ambiguity intriguing.

That is why I have decided to do this. Record my own history to the best of my (impeccable, if I do say) memory.

I'm not a sentimentalist.

I am merely a recorder of history.

But in the name of having a somewhat cliche start, I will state the following.

My name is Jeanine Matthews, and this is where it all began.


	2. Beginnings

As the majority of literature does, I'll start from the beginning.

May 19th.

My parents were young. Both 24, to be exact. From what I've been told and from what I can assume, they were your typical whirlwind love affair that young people get caught up in.

Nothing unusual, just perhaps what many people are not accustomed to.

As for their parenting skill…

Imagine this.

You have just begun working at a computer engineering job. You have read about complex programming, and it seemed interesting and challenging enough.

After only a month of your job as an amateur, you are given a project that will determine the rest of your entire career. It's an expert level job, one requiring extensive preparation and skill.

You, of course, make many mistakes, and have to make some rash judgements in order to try and complete this task. But you do get it done, eventually.

You obviously don't do it perfectly, and it turns out somewhat flawed.

Now, take this scenario and apply it to a parenting situation.

That is the "sob story" of my youth. I'm not a psychopath (despite what others may say behind my back), I know how to talk and hold a fork. The only unusual part of my childhood was that my parents didn't exactly know how to raise me. No parents know how to do it immediately, but mine expected me to act at a certain level of maturity rather quickly. Which, in the end, was not the worst thing that could've happened to me.

They didn't abuse me, or lock me in the dark.

I was expected to be a calm Erudite brainchild. Which, of course, I was. I didn't act out, and my parents soon realized that I was above the children in terms of intelligence at my daycare. I learned to read at age 4, words were something I grasped as soon as I could.

But when something shows any sign of higher performance than its counterparts, you do expect it to continue working at that same level. The same went for me and my giftedness.

I didn't understand why the other kids got to read only a few books before playing outside, when I had to finish the book I was reading and then tell my parents every detail I remembered. Or why I had to take these special tests every month (IQ tests that predicted that I would reach the exact level I am currently at). I was confused, but my parents were fascinated. The rest of my early training is history.

It would be hypocritical of me to criticize my mother and father for treating me like an experiment. I treat people like experiments constantly, so really, I'm no better than them.

Their love for me was mixed with curiosity and scientific pursuit.

I'm not the first Erudite child to be brought up this way, and not the last, so don't weep for me. I'm truly fine, and if I'm honest, I'm not sure I would've wanted an upbringing in which I was smothered in affection.

Though, a hug now and then may have been better than another book being shoved at me.

(I do love books, don't make any harsh judgements about my childish desire for parental assurance and love.)

Anyway. I have a tendency to go on about things that really don't need so much detail, though this is already very clear.

Onto my background.

I grew up in the Erudite upper class. My father was an astronomist, my mother was a psychologist and a sociologist. I was, without a doubt, privileged, and I knew that. I had pretty dresses, nice blankets. Nice stuffed animals that I no doubt held onto for far too long, given that my parents saw no reason to take them away (I relinquished custody of my last stuffed animal at age 12).

I was completely set when it came to material possessions. Of course, anyone knows that material objects aren't the ultimate human purpose. Relationships with others are among the most important things a person should have.

And I realized that quickly.

My parents had each other, and I even reasoned that my books had people with other people they needed in them.

So why didn't I?

I was very lonely, it became clear. It's rather hard to make friends when everyone functions at their age and you are well above them. I don't think I told my parents that I sat alone all the time, for fear of getting another test to see if I was antisocial. Though, I'm sure they realized as they spoke to other parents.

I didn't have play dates. My social life then meant sitting with my parents while they talked about big words that I longed to understand. That was how it always was. My parents were well respected; social upkeep meant having a dinner party almost every other week.

I recall being put in an itchy dress too many times and forced to sit still for way too long. No matter how well behaved, you can't make a five year old sit still for more than fifteen minutes. My parents did find it tiring when I started getting restless and started complaining.

After far too much time, they realized a very obvious solution.

I needed a friend to occupy me.

And thankfully, there were other young parents among the guests in attendance.

You can no doubt imagine my pleasure when I was told I would have a friend to play with during the extensive talks my parents would have with their friends. In fact, I find I can remember the night I met my friend quite vividly, even if it was so long ago.

Five year old Jeanine runs downstairs and nearly falls when she can't stop herself fast enough, and there he is.

A small boy, smaller than she was, looking shy and scared to death of this energized girl.

Grey eyes widened, and a hand was outstretched.

I remember saying something like, "Well, come on already." before I dragged him up to my room and showed him my huge book collection. Out of fear and a push from his parents, he came with me.

He was now my experiment.

Andrew Prior, the short five year old with curly hair, was the only thing little Jeanine would ever need.

Now enthralled by the best toy I'd ever received, I realized that you're not supposed to do certain things to another human being.

At one point, I believe there was even a list of "Do Nots". On paper. On the fridge. I remember being forced to memorize it.

You don't push someone over just to see if they'd cry.

You don't cut your friend's hair. Or your own hair.

You don't make your friends play the peasant while you play the queen just so you can make them do your chores.

These are only a few examples. I was rather adventurous. If you've ever seen a cat threatening to push something off of a table, that was me. Getting myself in trouble just to see what my boundaries were.

A world of disobedience and curiosity opened up in front of me. I could learn so much more by having a friend.

It wouldn't surprise me to find out that he was secretly terrified of me for his whole childhood. I don't deny that I was, and still am, an intense person. He learned to like me, even if that wasn't his initial instinct. I would make him like me, as at the time, that seemed to be my divine purpose.

He broke out of his pattern of shy behavior as he grew up, and we started to take on the world together.

Everything was a competition. Who could read the big book the fastest. Who could count to 100 the fastest. Who could run down the stairs the fastest without breaking their nose (the past part was a requirement added due to a previous occurrence).

I took pride in winning most of our little feuds.

If I were to go on explaining every argument we'd ever had, I could write more than Tolstoy ever did.

The point is, we were competitive, but we were also closer than I've ever been to another person, even almost 4 decades later.

Even though our relationship is farther apart than it could ever be as of now.

That is a story for later.

Moving on.

Andrew was not the only part of my childhood that was significant, though he was a big part of it.

In my third year of school, my teachers decided that there was no way I could stay at my age level. Simply put, I was bored out of my mind. I would swipe more interesting books from the library and read them while everyone learned something that I'd understood ages ago.

Addition was boring. Multiplication? Much better.

Much to my horror, I was torn from Andrew and placed in a class of students a full year older than me.

Age isn't such a big deal as an adult, but when you're 6 and everyone else is 7, the world is a terrifying place.

I was much smaller than everyone else. I had been taller than every girl in my previous class- now, all of the girls were taller, and the boys were catching up in height. I didn't even try and speak to the bigger children, I just remained silent and did my work. They stared at the tiny child that was me and decided to keep their distance, as I wasn't interesting enough to be the prey of their teasing.

My saving grace was the schedule of recess- thankfully, third and fourth year students were let out at the same time. I had one or two friends amongst the fourth years, but in the end, I always went back to Andrew (Which, you will find out later was a common pattern in my life).

Academically, I greatly excelled. I caught onto things quickly, and made the other kids jealous of me.

I never had any horrible illness, which I'm rather thankful for. The worst thing I got was the flu and strep throat.

I did, however, accumulate injuries.

Balance was not my strong suit, and no one could ever figure out why. There was nothing physically wrong, so they decided perhaps I just had other things on my mind than remaining upright.

My list of injuries goes on for quite a while.

I fell down the stairs at 7, much to Andrew's shock and horror. I've never seen someone look quite so terrified of a situation. But the injuries didn't stop there, and there was much to come.

I was the queen of paper cuts. I was usually found frowning at my finger after picking up another piece of paper wrong.

I tripped so much that I didn't even flinch when I did, I just got up and kept walking, even if I needed a bandage. Which scared people, they thought perhaps I was one of those children that felt no pain at all. Like some kind of budding sociopath.

Thankfully, my balance is much better at the present. I'm not sure when I grew out of it, but I'm quite grateful that I did.

All in all, I do believe I had a pleasurable childhood, aside from maybe losing some of the free time I could've had while studying instead. It benefited me in the long run.

I do admit that my parents made many mistakes, but in the end, I am as normal as I can be. I was raised to be an obedient child with high standards and expectations for my own life.

The real challenge came when I turned 12, and quickly realized that no longer was I a young child.

I was becoming a young adult who had to make decisions for herself.

And that was perhaps the biggest surprise of my life.


	3. memories of beginnings

Jeanine runs downstairs in her pretty blue dress and shiny shoes.

Tonight's the night- the night she gets to meet her new friend. Today when she came home from daycare, she learned that there would be someone there for her to play with tonight.

Never had she been so excited about a dinner party her parents were hosting.

In the midst of her excitement, she can barely control herself when she reaches the bottom.

As she does far too often, she has to catch herself and pause to balance like she'd been taught. Her blonde curls cover her face and she quickly pushes them back.

She first looks at her parents, and the two other people she remembers are called Mary and Alexander.

And when she looks down to her own eye level, there he is.

A boy about her size, less, but close enough.

His eyes are as wide as hers, but for a different reason. When Andrew learned he'd have a little girl as a friend, he didn't expect this train wreck.

"Jeanine, this is Andrew. He's the same age you are. You two can go play while we talk tonight." Guinevere Matthews says, looking down at her daughter fondly.

Jeanine sticks her hand out, almost hitting Andrew in the face. His eyes widen and for a second, he considers running in the other direction.

Andrew is baffled. He's not sure whether to take her hand or shake it. He's seen his parents do both. He doesn't get to decide, however, because she decides for him.

Jeanine gets impatient, which is normal for her.

"Well come on! I have so much to show you." She takes his hand and he's dragged off.

Guinevere looks at Mary. "She's… enthusiastic. She wouldn't ever hurt him, though, the only person she ever hurts is herself in her own clumsiness." she says, and with that, the adults have retreated to the living room.

Jeanine releases Andrew's hand once they're in her room. She feels like this quiet kid may somehow get lost in their expansive upstairs if she doesn't drag him around. He thinks he might get lost too, and therefore doesn't let go or try and pull away from her tight grip.

Once again, she starts talking, and he's too shocked to speak.

"I'm Jeanine. You can call me Jean. Just not Jeanie. My daddy calls me Jeanie." she says, jumping up on her bed and sitting down. Andrew stands in the middle room, unsure what to look at first.

There are four stuffed animals on the bed, and Andrew silently feels proud that he has many more stuffed animals on his own bed at home.

There are so many books. He has his own, but not like this. This is crazy. How can she even read all these books?

He knows it's polite to introduce himself, so that's why he finally decides to speak.

"I'm… Andrew." he somehow manages to say, looking down at his own feet. At some point in his toddler years, he decided he preferred to be quiet and think to himself rather than approach people boldly. He thinks he may not survive a bold approach with this one.

"Hi Drew. I'm gonna call you Drew. You can come sit. I'm nice, I promise." she says, swinging her legs. Her shoes are shiny, he notices. She may be taller than him, but most of her features are smaller than his own.

He stares at the big bed and somehow manages to pull himself up onto it. He reaches over and touches the softest blanket he's ever touched.

"Do you know how to read books yet?" Jeanine asks. She looks at Andrew. She doesn't understand how someone can be so quiet, especially since all she does when she's home is talk to her parents.

He's fascinating. She wants to understand him.

"I do. Only books with pictures." he says, still unable to make eye contact with the huge grey eyes next to him.

"I like books with pictures. Do you wanna look at my books? You can. But you can't make them messy." she says. Unlike Andrew, she can't seem to take her eyes off him. She doesn't even realize that she's freaking him out. Eye contact is a strong suit of hers.

He's the most interesting thing since she was introduced to her dad's telescope.

"Um… sure."

He doesn't know how to express his discomfort and lack of understanding about this girl. Why is she so excited all the time? Doesn't she ever want to think to herself?

The next half hour is spent looking through books. The books help Andrew to feel more comfortable, as books are something he's used to. And after some thought, maybe this girl is just being nice in her own way. His parents always taught him that everyone is different, and some people act different, but that's okay.

More than two words begin to come out of Andrew's mouth at once, and soon they're both giggling over the pictures in the storybook. Jeanine doesn't mention how she learned to read that book much sooner than now, she didn't want to, as her parents say, "brag".

It doesn't take long for them to decide they want to play instead of reading. Besides, Jeanine's done her daily reading. Andrew is curious about what Jeanine likes to play.

She knows she's not supposed to try and reach the dress up clothes by herself, since last time she nearly broke her neck trying to get them. She also knows she isn't supposed to interrupt her parents' meeting. Dress up isn't an option.

They both stand there, trying to think of a fun game. Much to Jeanine's surprise, Andrew is the one who comes up with an idea.

Andrew suggest they pretend to be wizards with the unsharpened pencils on Jeanine's desk, and Jeanine gasps so loudly that Andrew is scared again.

"You're a genius, Drew! My parents use that word sometimes. Ge-ne-us. It means really smart." she says, bouncing with excitement.

She looks at him and grins.

As he realizes he did nothing wrong, he can't help but smile too. He thinks he might like her after all.

When their parents come upstairs, they're both using blankets as capes and shouting nonsense at each other and pretending to be frogs when a "spell" hits them. The parents of both children are pleased to see smiles all around.

They all watch and wince as Jeanine gets caught in her own blanket and hits the floor.

Mary and Alexander watch with shock as neither of the Matthews adults move to pick their daughter up. They are equally shocked when Jeanine gets up, barely even noticing her slip.

Jeanine's father is quick to explain.

"She falls so often that she just bounces back up. Her center of balance is off." Mark says, and Alexander and Mary both nod with confusion still on their faces. Andrew didn't recover from any kind of fall nearly as well, he often lost it and didn't recover for hours.

Andrew looks at Jeanine with concern as well, but decides she's probably okay.

"Time to go, Andy." Alexander says, and Andrew frowns. "But why? We're having fun." he says, his shoulders dropping as he frowns. Jeanine stares up at her parents, knowing that she was getting sleepy.

"Bed time. I think you're both getting sleepy."

Andrew didn't look tired, but Jeanine looks as if she could drop off right there and be out for the night.

He continues frowning, but lets the blanket slide off his shoulders.

He walks over to Jeanine and hugs her tightly.

That wakes her up immediately, as she wasn't used to being hugged by someone her size. Not to mention her parents didn't ever hug her this tightly, she almost felt like she couldn't breathe.

"Bye Jean. I wanna play with you more." he says, before pulling back.

She looks at him and nods. "Me too. Bye Drew."

Alexander picks up his son, and Guinevere picks up Jeanine, who immediately goes back to being tired again.

It's exhausting being so perky.

Jeanine waves one more time before falling asleep immediately with her cheek on her mom's shoulder.

Despite many lapses in judgement in the past, allowing Jeanine to meet Andrew was undoubtedly a good decision on her parents' part. Jeanine had finally met her match, as well as someone she'd be able to rely on for years to come.


	4. change

Everything has begun to blur together in my mind regarding my childhood. I can no longer describe meaningless events in detail like I once could, unfortunately. The joys of aging.

However, as I began to become less of a child and more of a teenager, there is one day in particular I remember.

My twelfth birthday.

I remember it rather vividly, though, in all reality, it was a rather normal day. I recall it being sunny, which was greatly appreciated in a time when bike riding was the greatest activity known to man.

It wasn't incredibly special, nor incredibly boring. I didn't have an extravagant party either.

Of course, my parents celebrated with me, as did Andrew. Presents were in the picture, but it wasn't the experiences of the day that truly make this day stand out in my life. I suppose I do remember it for rather different reason than would be expected.

Midday, a sudden realization had struck me like lightning. Perhaps I remember it because of the sheer suddenness of the thought. It's a realization I feel that all adolescents have at some point; it was almost an awakening.

For a moment, I'd faced the facts for what they were.

I wasn't 10 years old anymore, nor was I 11. I was close to finishing my first year of the Middle Levels, nearly in my seventh year of school as a whole. I was allowed to have my own cell phone, and best of all, I could access the 'Teen Section' of the library. I wasn't a young child anymore, I was getting closer to the freedom I'd read about book characters having and craved for years. Soon enough, I'd be as old as Nancy Drew, and look what she was doing with her time.

I began to have the mentality that soon enough, I'd have to start deciding what my life would be and who I was.

Intense thoughts for a 12 year old, I know. But it was the truth that went unrecognized by many others.

I was way ahead of my time, but nevertheless, my mindset had been changed. I didn't prioritize going outside to play with the neighbors anymore, though I did still indulge in those activities. I decided I needed to read more, work even harder on my school things, and make my own decisions. In fact, I believe it annoyed my parents how independent I decided I wanted to be.

I wasn't completely alone in these thoughts of taking control of my life, though a good portion of my peers had focused on something much more superficial than purpose and destiny.

All around me, I heard the same things from every girl my age. The same desire seemed to resonate within all of them.

Being at the still impressionable age I was, I started to pick up the same desire.

I began to desire to improve what I looked like.

I'd entered the years of my life where everyone wanted to look older than they were. No more pigtails. Girls did their own hair in the morning. Picked out their own clothes. Tried to wear makeup. The boys tried to impress the girls and their friends. It was a strange time of young people pretending they were adults.

Everyone, of course, was still awkward and no one was comfortable in their own skin. The makeup girls (even some boys) wore was to try and cover up the new dreaded spots on their faces. The boys began to all dress the same to reach a norm that took little time to establish.

Everyone was uncomfortable and scared to even speak of how uncomfortable they were. There was something all of us found wrong in ourselves. I was particularly unhappy with my hair and my weight.

But that wasn't all.

A habit became common amongst my peers- the habit of putting others down to try and make oneself feel better. Establishing superiors and inferiors is a way to put it. It was a poor attempt to become happier with one's own self.

I was one of the inferiors, which may come as a surprise given where I've climbed to in the past.

Now, as I've mentioned before, I'm not claiming to have a terrible childhood that ultimately leads up to how I am now. I'm not a sob story, nor do I try to present myself as one.

But it is simple fact that I was not immune to teasing in school.

It became adolescent custom to pick at those who aren't the same as everyone else, or not close enough to "perfect", with the ultimate goal to try and feel more normal.

Custom doesn't justify it, but that seems to be why generation after generation is filled with kids who become hurtful no matter what they were like before. You'll hear about it from parents, grandparents, and great grandparents alike. Peer judgement has been around since the beginning, but it becomes nuanced when kids have grown up enough to notice when someone isn't like them, and consider this a problem.

So yes, I was a victim of teasing. I don't like to use the word bullying, as I feel that word has connotations that didn't apply to my situation and allow for incorrect assumption.

I was, I admit, a rather perfect victim to be picked on.

I was short, rather chubby, and way too clever to go unnoticed. All of this was "bad" to the classmates I had, because it wasn't like them.

The worst part of it was the fact that I didn't notice what was going on.

Though I was book smart, my instincts for conversation and socialization were lacking. I was too naive. I thought that my classmates were joking when they called me a nerd; I believe I saw it as a compliment. But their true intentions were hurtful, as Andrew pointed out. He couldn't let me go on in my ignorance.

Naturally, social approval is a human desire. And as soon as I realized that I didn't have said approval, I sunk into myself and lost all naive confidence that I possessed.

I became the child that sits in the library at recess, reading books that were way past my maturity. Books were really my only escape.

I tell of all of this not to evoke sympathy. I'm recounting the tale of my youth. Yes, it hurt. Yes, it damaged my self esteem.

But I survived. I'm not going to tell some fantastic story about how I proved them all wrong (though, i technically did) to show you that social mobility is possible. I do not want sympathy, or applause. None of this is rhetoric.

I suppose if you were to have a takeaway from this, if you so desire one, is that I learned that not everyone was going to like you, or be your friend.

There were days when I tried to fake sick so I could avoid being called, in no uncertain terms, a smartass. There were days I wanted to disappear, days I felt like authors long passed were the only people I had, aside from Andrew, my only friend. But life went on. That is my true purpose of this, I suppose. Life goes on.

By the time I turned 14, I'd lost many of the 'friends' I thought I had in Early Levels. At that point, it didn't bother me as much. I was older. I looked different. I grew up. I changed. I learned who my real friends were.

I learned who I could depend upon, learned what I valued. Of course, this was only the beginning of the discoverance of values. The foundation, if you will.

Change was not something I was ever particularly fond of. It has remained that way for my whole life. I admit that I abhor change now, hence the partial explanation of my actions in the last 12 months.

But even I cannot deny that change shaped me for who I am. Eventually, the ridiculous teasing and taunting ultimately died away as I began to focus on who I decided I would be.

I grew up. I became who I wanted to be.

In the end, I have decided that ultimately what felt like the worst bits of my life were for the better.

Change has purpose, and life goes on.


	5. memories of change

"But why do I have to learn Russian? And where does it even come from?" 11 year old Jeanine rests her chin in her hands. Her eyes are almost hidden behind her glasses, and all her mother sees when she looks at Jeanine is light reflections.

Guinevere sighs. "It's from before the war, and it's to help you. If you learn difficult languages now, then it will be much easier when you're older." she says, looking up from her own pile of work.

Jeanine never seemed to stop with the "why" questions. Almost like she was still a young child discovering the wonders and pleasures of life.

She simply couldn't put her mind to a task if there was not a clear purpose for doing so. The questions were normal, but still somewhat bothersome. It seemed Jeanine's mind was always buzzing.

It continued to buzz as usual today. Though something was a bit different this afternoon.

Not only was her mind buzzing with questions, Jeanine wasn't exactly feeling well, and there was a good reason why.

School wasn't as fun as it used to be for her. Of course, she enjoyed the work and gladly immersed herself in her classes. Being Erudite wasn't hard for her.

It was the social aspect that she had learned to hate. This was a new hatred as well.

She wasn't the most popular student amongst her classmates. She had stress acne, her hair was frizzy and covered her eyes as her bangs grew out, and she had gained a lot of weight. Typical early teen issues. It weighed down on Jeanine quite a lot.

It made her feel sick to know that she wasn't well liked.

Usually, it wouldn't bother her. But right now, sitting alone made her feel awful. She only sat alone because she didn't deem it right for Andrew to have to be the one to sit with the lonely girl. No matter how many times he insisted she join him, she felt too uncomfortable.

Maybe she brought part of it on herself, but nonetheless.

She wanted to crawl into a hole.

She spaces out quite a bit these days.

"Jeanine, what is on your mind? You're off in space." Her mother asks. Jeanine shakes herself out of it. She hadn't realized she was blanking out as she stared at the wall.

"I'm fine, Mother. Sorry." Jeanine looks back down at the textbook and her notebook. Neat, color coded notes.

The letters are in another language, of course, but it doesn't make sense like it usually does to her. It's just scribbles.

Her mind has given up on her, and she doesn't like it.

She sighs. There's no point in going on like this, she decides.

"Can I take a break? I finished half of a worksheet." Jeanine asks. Guinevere looks back up. Despite her desire to teach her daughter discipline, she is well aware that Jeanine is not herself. Almost anyone could guess that. "Alright. Clean up your things, and I will call you down for dinner. You've done enough for the evening," the older woman says, returning her attention to her own work. An upset daughter was the last thing she needed.

Jeanine packs her things quickly and runs upstairs to her room. Her neat, all blue room.

She collapses onto her bed and takes her phone from her pocket. She hopes perhaps she can find comfort in a friend or two.

Two texts await her, one from Andrew, the other from a newer friend of hers, Evelyn. Jeanine was intimidated by Evelyn; the girl seemed… edgy compared to Jeanine's good girl reputation. She wasn't sure how to approach the girl who she thought didn't fit into Erudite.

She answers Andrew first. He asked for her math homework, which doesn't surprise her. He was studious enough, but he never believed his work was correct unless he ran it by Jeanine's work first. She was his answer key. She always got it right.

"Do it yourself for once. You always get them right, you really don't need to take mine every time." She sends it and then opens Evelyn's message. She can't deny that her heart beats a little faster.

"Where were you at lunch? You disappeared."

Jeanine bites her lip. She skipped lunch to go to the library, where she would never find judgement.

"Library. I know you're surprised."

She attempts to be sarcastic, hoping it'll impress Evelyn. She was usually sure of herself, but Evelyn was different. Just different, for better or for worse.

Andrew has responded.

"I'm lazy. Help me, Lord of Intelligence."

She can't help but smile. Only Andrew made her smile like that.

"Nope. Do you want to come over for dinner? I need company and my 3 year old brother really is not what I want to be around."

Andrew responds quickly to Jeanine. He's the constant in her life.

"Of couurssseee. Be there soon."

She can't help but smile. He almost never refuses an invitation to dine at the Matthews home.

She waits anxiously for him to arrive, and when he does, she half drags him up to her room.

"What's up with you?" he narrows his eyes.

She sighs and sits down on her bed.

"School is meh. Meh, meh, meh." She says, flopping back into her pillows. She wasn't usually so inarticulate, but her thoughts were all over.

"Okay, good description. But are you okay?" He asks, sitting next to her. He didn't exactly like seeing her like this.

"I don't know. I'm tired of being 11. I want my mom to trust me. Nothing is changing fast enough but it's also changing too fast." she grabs a pillow and presses it to her face.

She feels Andrew flop down next to her.

"I'm sorry Jeanine. It sucks. I sound like I have permanent laryngitis because of my voice cracking. At least you're stuck with me." He pats her arm.

She sighs and looks over.

"Thanks Andrew."

He gives her a toothy smile.

"You're welcome, Jeanie." he pushes her gently.

She smiles and smacks him with a pillow.

And she decides perhaps change isn't so bad.

At least, not when you have your best friend to do it with you.


End file.
